Page 13 of The Dreidl Disaster

“And you’re in the office tomorrow?”

She nodded. “I’ve got a pretty packed schedule for the next two days including one of the transition meetings.”

“Teaching the new mayor?”

She nodded. “Yes. That’s the meeting I have for most of Wednesday. Updating the new mayor on everything and teaching them how Briarwood works—or has for the past five years.”

He looked at her, and she wasn’t sure what he saw in her expression. “Are you ready to leave Briarwood behind?”

“I’m ready to leave the village politics behind, and I’m ready to try and serve my community on a larger scale, but I’m not leaving Briarwood. I still live here.”

He didn’t answer immediately, but she saw the thoughts play across his face. “Which is why all of this is important?”

“One of the reasons,” she said. “I wanted… I want to leave something behind. I want to celebrate here, in Briarwood, one more time before my focus is taken elsewhere.”

He nodded, but he didn’t respond immediately. But she could see the flames that made his eyes glow with something she couldn’t identify. But when he spoke, it was quiet.

“We’ll do this,” he said, as if fixing what had been broken was a foregone conclusion, and nothing and nobody would keep him from bringing her vision of community to Briarwood one last time. And for the first time since Artur walked into her office on Monday morning, Liv believed it.

She’d be happier, however, if she could extricate her hand from his.

And if she could give back his jacket.

Chapter Four

The next morning,Artur borrowed one of Abe’s old jackets, which didn’t fit, and headed over to the Briarwood synagogue in search of information.

A parking space was easy to find, but information was not.

“Rabbi Leibowitz is busy,” the temple administrator informed him, taking a break from moving papers around her desk to briefly look him in the eye. “Even though we are not heading toward our busy season, we are heading away from it, and it’s as if people have just discovered our existence.”

Which Artur could understand.

“Including,” the administrator continued, looking up once again, only to push her glasses up her nose, “hockey teams who don’t understand the meaning of Shabbas even though they’re…attempting to organize an event for the town.”

If he was a different person, the barb would have landed. But as he’d come in expecting to fix trouble, not assuming it didn’t exist, he smiled. “That’s what I’m here to fix.”

Clearly unconvinced, she said, “Which is all well and good, but the schedule is busy and you’re not seeing anybody. Until Thursday, at least.”

Thursday. At the meeting.

He nodded, understanding the underlying negativity. “Right.”

“But,” the administrator said, “I do have a note from the rabbi.”

That was unexpected. “Oh?”

“Rabbi Leibowitz did receive a note from Rabbi Engel of Rivertown, but he already knew you were a good guy from the virtual presentation you did two years ago about on-the-ground Tzedakah.”

The presentation.

He’d been on the ground, hoping he had internet.

But he’d been able to get a signal and talked for a few hours about what he was doing. He’d been exhausted, but it had felt good.

“And,” the administrator said, “once you’ve figured out what you’re doing with the event here, the rabbi would love to speak to you. He’ll have time next week.”

Artur nodded, relieved. “Good.”

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